


Ruminations

by Tayla36



Series: Finding Love [2]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayla36/pseuds/Tayla36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg spends the night in Gil's bed.  The next morning is not all sunshine and roses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruminations

**Author's Note:**

> Series/Sequel: Prequel to "Just For Today."
> 
> Authors Notes: I have plans for more stories exploring the relationship that Gil and Greg started in "Just For Today," and realized that it didn't start there. It started with the drunken night they spent together before that.

I am so screwed.

 

I slept with my boss.  I've been in love with him for two years.  Well, I've known him for two years.  I guess I haven't been in love with him for all of that time.  It's hard to love someone if you don't know him and he's a difficult man to get to know.  He's very good at his job.  Always professional and so intelligent.  But a bit of a mystery.  Never letting anyone get too close.

 

Well, I certainly got close last night.  I found him drinking in a bar.  It was after a tough case, and he was really tying one on. I'd never seen him like that.  The alcohol really loosened him up.  He was laughing and joking, talking about everything but the case.  But I knew that the case was bothering him.  His laughter was forced and his humor was black.

 

I don't always get the whole picture of the cases we work on.  I just see a little piece, just a sample on a slide. But Gil sees all the blood, and the body.  He sees close up the horrors of what people do to each other.  It usually doesn't affect him; at least not that he lets anyone see.

 

But when it's a child, it's different.  He had pulled a double shift trying to solve the murder of a child.  And when he figured out that the girl's father had raped her and beaten her to death, it hit him hard.  He had been working for almost twenty-four hours.  He should be home in bed.  But he was in the bar, drowning his sorrows.

 

I drove him home and got him undressed and into bed.  I still don't know if I tripped or if he pulled me down, but I wound up in the bed with him.  And he knew what he was doing.  I always assumed that he was straight.  He certainly never showed up on my gaydar.

 

Actually, a guy being straight is not a detriment to me.  I like seducing straight guys.  I love seeing the look on a man's face when he realizes he's not as straight as he thought he was.  It's like a mission of mine.  Spreading the gospel of bisexuality by preaching.  How can preaching do that?  Well, since I do my preaching on my knees, it can be a very effective tool.

 

Now I'm making myself sound like a slut, and I'm really not.  True, I was a little wild in grad school. I took some opportunities to introduce my brethren to the joys of male/male sex.  But for some reason, I never went all the way.  Yes, I suppose that's hypocritical of me.  Telling other men that I've met that it's okay to explore their gay side.  That they owe it to themselves to experiment and decide what they really wanted from life.  I'm very good with my mouth, both my oration and my oral skills. 

 

But I never gave up my ass.  And I never got seriously involved with anyone.  I guess those two facts are related.  It's a very vulnerable position for a man to be in, offering himself like that for another man's pleasure.  There's the definite potential for pain and injury.  I never let myself get close enough to anyone to trust him that much.  So I had some experience, but I was still a virgin. 

 

I came close when I was in college, with my first male lovers.  My senior year at Berkley, I interned at the SFPD crime lab.  I got involved with a couple of cops.  And they were a couple.  Maybe that's why I didn't go all the way with either of them.  They had each other.  They cared about me and I enjoyed being with them, but sometimes, they would look at each other and I just really felt like an intruder.  I wanted someone to look at me that way someday.  I thought that maybe Gil could be that someone. 

 

So I spent the night with him.  And it was wonderful.  I let myself fall a little in love with him.  Pretty stupid.  The man was drunk.  It seemed like he enjoyed himself well enough, but we didn't really talk.  It was all over pretty quickly.  He sucked me, I sucked him, and then we both passed out.  Oh so romantic. 

 

I woke up this morning and watched him sleeping.  His hair was sticking out in all different directions.  His mouth was open, just a bit, and he wheezed a little.  He was so cute.  Now, that's not usually a word I would normally use to describe GilGrissom.  But this morning, I thought he was cute. 

 

I lay there, watching him, and I let myself imagine all kinds of possibilities for the future.  I mean, the night before, we hadn't even kissed.  I imagined him waking up and seeing me there in the bed beside him.  He would reach for me and pull me to him, kissing me, touching me and making love to me for real.  I would get to actually see him.  It was really dark in his bedroom, and I had gone mostly by feel the night before.  But now, I would get to see him naked in the daylight.  I would be able to look at him as we made love.  I would get to see the look on his face and the love in his eyes as I made him come.  That’s when I started to let myself fall in love.  Lying in GilGrissom's bed, watching him sleep and imagining the future. 

 

Maybe we wouldn't make love right away.  Maybe we would get up and shower together.  Then we would cook breakfast, maybe some eggs and bacon and toast.  And we would steal kisses from each other while we bumped elbows at the stove.  Then after breakfast, we would wind up making love there in the kitchen.  I imagined myself losing my virginity on Gil's kitchen table.  Or maybe bent over the counter.  Or maybe just down on my hands and knees on the linoleum . . .

 

So all these thoughts were running through my mind, as I was lying there, and my morning erection was almost painful.  I really wished that he would wake up so we could get on with our lives together already. 

 

Then I started thinking, really thinking about what had happened last night.

 

He had been drunk.  Too drunk to drive.  Rule of thumb is that if a person is too drunk to drive, they're too drunk to give consent.  Doesn't matter that he had pulled me into the bed.  Doesn't matter that he had enjoyed it.  He had been drunk, and I had been sober. 

 

I'm not a cop, but even I know that what happened last night could be construed as rape. 

 

I hadn't made love to my boss.  I had raped him.

 

I managed to get myself out of the bed and into the bathroom before throwing up.

 

Stupid, stupid.  What do I do now?  Wake him up and apologize?  Get dressed and sneak out, pretend it didn't happen?  Find Captain Brass and turn myself in?  Find a bus and throw myself under it? 

 

There was a knock at the door and I heard, "Sanders, are you alright?"

 

Sanders.  Not Greg.  Shit.

 

"Yeah.  Just a sec, boss."

 

Shit again.  Throwing up in the man's bathroom after spending the night in his bed, and I call him 'boss'.  Real smooth.

 

I was glad I had snatched up my clothes on the way to the bathroom.  I scrambled into them, rinsed my mouth in the sink, and opened the door to face the music. 

 

He had put on a pair of sweat pants, but his chest was still bare.  I vaguely remembered snuggling against that chest last night. 

 

"Are you okay?" he asked again.  He looked nervous.

 

"Yeah.  Just a little queasy."

 

"Excuse me."  He pushed past me into the bathroom and shut the door.

 

Damn it.  What do I do now?

 

I went into the living room.  Pretty spartan.  Last night, I had just gotten the brief impression of high ceilings and bare floors.  Now in the daylight, I could see the framed insects on the walls and the small sofa and the square solid wooden table. 

 

The table that I had imagined getting fucked on.

 

Well, I don't think that's gonna happen now.

 

I found the phone and dialed for a cab.  I was just hanging up when Grissom emerged from the bedroom. 

 

He still looked nervous.  He started puttering around the kitchen, making coffee as he spoke. 

 

"We took my car back here last night, didn't we?"

 

"Yeah. I left mine at the bar," I answered him.

 

"Let me just get some coffee, and I'll drive you back to get it."

 

"That's okay, Grissom.  I just called for a cab."

 

"I can take you. It's not a problem."  Oh, we were both being so polite.

 

"No.  Don't worry about it.  You've got to be feeling like shit, man.  You had quite a bit to drink last night."  I dropped my eyes and stared at the floor.

 

"Yes, well, I am feeling a little under the weather this morning.  It is still morning, isn't it?"

 

I glanced at my watch.  "It’s ten after nine.  You ought to go back to bed and sleep off the hangover."

 

"Yes. I'll probably do that."

 

I stared at the floor again.

 

"Listen, Greg, about last night . . . "

 

Oh, here it comes.  The 'about last night' speech.  This is where he says he's never done anything like that before and it was good, and I'm a nice guy and all, but we probably shouldn't do anything like that again.  I really didn't think I could stand to hear that speech right now without crying like a baby.

 

I heard a car horn outside.

 

"There's my cab.  I'll see you at work tonight."  I almost ran to the door.  He followed me.

 

"Greg . . . "

 

"Hey.  Don't worry about it, man.  I'm not going to say anything.  I'm not going to out you or anything like that."

 

"I appreciate that."  Something passed over his face then, like he wasn't sure what else to say.

 

"Well, the cab's waiting.  Gotta go."

 

"Yes.  See you tonight."

 

And then I was out the door. 

 

And that was that.

 

 

 


End file.
